


Windows, Masks, and a Creator

by Mystical_Magician



Series: Into the Dream [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Labyrinth (1986), Mirrormask (2005)
Genre: Crossover, Drabble, Dreams, Fantasy, Gen, Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-30
Updated: 2012-08-30
Packaged: 2017-11-13 04:22:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/499432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mystical_Magician/pseuds/Mystical_Magician
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>And for those masks who linger on</em>
  <br/><em>To feast at night upon the pure sea!</em>
  <br/><strong>-Arthur Rimbaud, “Does She Dance”</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Dream lofty dreams, and as you dream, so you shall become. Your vision is the promise of what you shall one day be; your ideal is the prophecy of what you shall at last unveil.</em>
  <br/><strong>-James Allen</strong>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Windows, Masks, and a Creator

Albus Dumbledore was drawn by his curiosity to the crowd that congregated less than a block away from the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron. It seemed a cheerful gathering he noted, with easy laughter and the occasional applause. 

There was something strange at work here, he thought as he drew closer. There was a flickering at the edge of his senses, as though he were seeing glimmers of light on a reflective surface. And when he realized what he was feeling, it was as though the light blinded him, the sense of magic blazing. He was stunned by the power of whatever object the crowd was gathered around and wondered how he could never have noticed before. It was alien to him, felt almost nothing like the usual wizardry, and he was intensely curious as to whatever this thing was and what it did. 

A girl held the attention of the crowd. Or rather, a young woman, small and petite with short, dark, feathery hair whose bangs brushed against her cheek. Her mouth quirked in an amused smile, and there was a stubborn cast to her chin. She was wearing tight fitting clothes and juggled with incredible skill. She walked, spun, and danced fluidly as she juggled anywhere from three to seven balls. 

It was the mask that interested Albus. He had never seen a mirror fashioned into a mask. Or was it a mask fashioned into a mirror? Had the sky been clear of gray clouds he had no doubt that the light reflecting from the mask would be blinding. Perhaps that was why she chose to perform on such a cloudy day? 

The performance wound down after a few minutes, the woman finishing with a display of contact juggling. When she pushed back her mask so that it rested on her hair, hinting that the act was done, the crowd began to disperse. She made no move to retrieve her bag, though, and Albus followed her gaze to a familiar young woman. 

Sarah, he noticed, was returning the performer’s gaze with equal intensity. There was a certain knowing in the exchange that intrigued Albus, though it was no business of his. Then the juggler flashed a grin and nonchalantly tossed a clear ball glowing with some inner light to Sarah. 

Sarah laughed and turned to leave with a nod. 

When the crowd had cleared, Albus approached the young woman. “Good afternoon,” he said pleasantly. “I’m Albus Dumbledore.” 

“Hullo,” she said as she gently placed her mask in her bag. “Helena Campbell.” She brushed her hair out of her eyes and held out a hand. 

“Your performance was very enjoyable,” he complimented. “Where did you learn such skills?” 

“Thanks. My parents own a circus, so I’ve been performing since I was young. I’m actually in London on my own for my art exhibit, so whenever I get a bit homesick I pick a corner and perform a bit.” 

“Are you an artist then?” Albus asked with obvious interest. 

“Yeah,” Helena replied. “I’m heading in the direction of the gallery, actually, if you wanted to come along.” 

“Certainly. I am a great fan of the arts,” he said jovially. “In fact, I attended a play starring Miss Sarah Williams several weeks ago. Do you know her well?” 

“Who?” Helena questioned, tilting her head a little to the side in puzzlement. 

“The young woman you gifted the ball with,” he clarified. 

“Ah.” Her expression cleared. “No, I didn’t know her very well, but I recognize her. From the dreaming.” 

“I beg your pardon?” Albus asked puzzled. 

Helena hesitated. “It’s not something that can be described, really,” she said slowly. “It’s something that a very few experience.” 

Albus acknowledged this regretfully. “Would this have anything to do with that powerful object I sensed in your possession?” 

She looked a little startled, and then her expression eased a bit. “You mean the Mirrormask.” 

“Do you often carry something so powerful around with you?” 

“My friend, Valentine, is something of a con artist, and I guess his cynicism rubbed off on me. Not that I wasn’t cynical to begin with,” she said with a slightly sarcastic twist to her lips. “If I’m away from the circus, I don’t feel comfortable leaving this behind in whatever new place I’m inhabiting at the moment.”

She fingered her bag absently as they walked. “You know, I never knew whether I created the Mirrormask, or whether I simply imbued the mask with its power.” 

“You made that Charm?” Albus asked in surprise. 

“I am a Creator,” Helena replied with a slight smirk. “Not a very good one, I suppose, with all that I don’t know or understand about Creating, but I’m learning. And I do love and visit my Creations, and they have their free will and their balance of Light and Dark, so I don’t think I’m doing too bad on the whole.” 

“I’m afraid I don’t understand,” Albus admitted. Any member of the Wizarding World would have been shocked, which would have made it that much more difficult to admit his confusion. But whatever she was, Helena wasn’t a witch. 

She patted his arm sympathetically. “I know,” she said, “and I shouldn’t dump this on you, but there’s just something about you that makes me want to confide a little. It helps me, I think. I haven’t met any Creators yet. Jess was close, but it was his other who Created, and she died a long time ago.” 

“How tragic,” Albus murmured sympathetically. 

“This world tends to lose its dreamers young,” Helena acknowledged absently. “The dreams call to us, and we all follow eventually, or we lose the dreams altogether.” 

“I don’t understand,” he whispered. 

She smiled at him, but offered no further explanation. “I’m sorry,” she said instead. “You attract confessions. I said that, didn’t I?” 

Helena came to a halt, and Albus stopped as well. 

“Here we are,” she said. “The art show will be continuing for the next few weeks. I hope you enjoy it.” 

The Headmaster looked up at the glass doors, still slightly dazed by the cryptic conversation. 

“It was nice meeting you,” Helena said, and with a slight bow she headed for her flat.


End file.
